


Lost Cause

by Isolophiliac



Series: Idiosyncrasy Among Brothers [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Brotherly Love, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13893921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isolophiliac/pseuds/Isolophiliac
Summary: Damian wonders where he stands on the scales of good and evil. It's a good thing his brother isn't about to let him go through that alone.





	Lost Cause

Damian Wayne growled in frustration as he threw his katana at the nearest wall, embedding it into the beige painted plaster and mahogany paneling ten feet away. _“Justice not vengeance.”_ Those three words kept echoing in his mind, over and over again to point where he felt he had driven himself to insanity.

He knew what the words meant, he understood them, but still, nothing had changed. At times he still wanted to kill, he still hurt people. He hadn’t changed, he was still a killer, a murderer, an assassin. Damian growled, throwing everything off his desk before planting his barefoot into the wall.

He was angry and he didn’t know who or what at. He hated those three words, he hated his father and all their fights, he hated his mother and the League of Shadows. Damian scowled at nothing in particular, still feeling rotten.

“Hey, Littl-” A tall, lithe young man with short, raven hair and cobalt eyes waltzed into Damian’s room, stopping short when he noticed the mess and mass destruction. “What happened in here?” He asked, scanning the room. “Did you get into another fight with Bruce? Or Tim?”

“Pfft. As if Drake could insult me.” Damian scoffed, the true emotions in his voice masked with a counterfeit form of contempt. The young man, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson raised a questioning eyebrow. “But something did…” He pressed, slowly inching his way closer the eleven-year-old boy who was now leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, next to a floor-to-ceiling arched window.

“It’s nothing, Grayson!” Damian snapped, getting annoyed. “If it was nothing there wouldn’t be a hole in the wall the size of your foot, and the contents of your desk would still be in one piece.” Dick pointed out, putting his calloused hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Come on, you can trust me Baby Bird.”

“Don’t call me that.” Damian rebuked, shrugging Dick’s hand away. “And it is nothing! Why won’t anyone believe me!” Damian growled, half to Dick and half to himself, glaring at the wall. “Who won’t believe you?” Damian’s green tinted, aquamarine eyes widened ever-so-slightly as he realized his mistake.

“No One! Back off Grayson!”

“Not in a million years, Baby Bird.” Dick sang, throwing Damian over his shoulder, much to the boy’s chagrin. “Hey! Put me down now you insolent fool!” Damian yelled in protest, punching Dick’s back. Dick laughed, sounding free and careless as always. “Whatever you say, Little D.” Dick sang, throwing the struggling Damian onto his neatly made bed. “So,” Dick started, willingly falling next to Damian. What’s going on?”

“I already told you nothing is going on.” Damian stubbornly insisted, sounding a just a little too much like his father. “You’re being absolutely ridiculous.” Dick quietly studied Damian, taking in the young boy's body language, silently deciphering the truth.

Although it might not have seemed like it Damian was easy to understand once you got past his overbearing and confident facade, he was still a kid and a creature of habit, even if he refused to believe it. Whenever Damian got into a fight with an authority figure or someone he looked up to he would train, either relentlessly hacking items and objects apart with his deadly katana or read some over-complicated book, those fights made him feel like a disappointment.

Whenever he fought with Tim or Jason he would storm off and sulk, plotting revenge the moment he got over his secretly hurt feelings. Sometimes, when Talia appeared, Damian would drop off the face of the earth, far too conflicted for his pride to handle seeing anyone. He simply didn’t, couldn’t understand that they were family, that they didn’t care about what his mother said, he was still family. Dick couldn’t help but feel sad about that, he was an eleven-year-old boy who couldn’t understand what family was, at least not the good kind, the kind that counted.

Dick has stuck with his little brother through thick and thin, knowing that Tim, Jason and especially Bruce would not be able to sympathize with Damian, a boy who desperately needed it. But even with experience in dealing with Damian’s temper tantrums, he had never seen him like this. He was angry all right, angry and upset but at who Dick didn’t know.

“Come on, kiddo.” Dick urged in a soft voice. “Be honest with me Baby Bird, I can’t help if you don’t talk.” “I don’t need your help…” Damian muttered, avoiding Dick’s gaze. Dick stayed silent, knowing Damian just needed time to think before he spoke.

“It’s just… Do…” Damian trailed off, biting down on his bottom lip. “You must know I am only saying such thing to put a stop to your incessant badgering.” Damian stated, earning himself a smile and a slightly amused ‘mmm-hmm’ from Grayson.

“Am I a bad person?”

“What?”

Dick was absolutely shocked at the question. That’s what this was about? That’s why he trashed his room? Because he didn’t think he was good?

“Damian, of course you’re a good person!” Dick exclaimed, his mind working desperately to find the cause of Damian’s train of thought. “But I hurt people.” Damian butted in. “I’ve killed people. Sometimes I still want to and I never feel bad about it.”

“Baby Bird…” Dick started, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself for what your mother raised you to do.” Damian and Dick’s eyes met for a moment before Damian returned his gaze to the bed sheets. “I don’t- But…” Damian trailed off, shaking his head. “I was raised to kill people… And although I know it’s wrong but I don’t feel bad about killing…”

“You obviously feel bad about killing, Little D. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be torturing yourself about it.” “I am not ‘torturing myself’!” Damian exclaimed, defensive. Dick gave the boy’s shoulders a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay Baby Bird, you’re a good person… _You’re not a lost cause.”_


End file.
